


Only Two of Them

by manatease



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Eventual Smut, F/M, Kidnapping, M/M, POV First Person, Possessive Behavior, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 00:02:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15302997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manatease/pseuds/manatease
Summary: A young woman has a run-in with two young men on the train, and things escalate quickly. Just some nice, gluten-free, organic self-insert trash with some rainy-day sex and loving descriptions of carpets. Smut and tasteful home decor!! We all win!





	Only Two of Them

I didn't realize at first that there were only two of them. They were laughing so loudly I could have sworn that there must have been at least 4, maybe five boys. Not boys, really. Men. These were young men my age. Not older than 24. But at this age, we're just toddlers with driver's licenses. One of them guffawed loudly. It was an oddly sweet, awkward sound. I snorted quietly to myself, smiling. "Losers," I thought fondly. I caught a look at my reflection in the glass on the other side of the cramped metro car and made a face at it before turning my attention back to my book. I wasn't reading it, though. I was thinking about what my aunt had said about me moving in with her and if she would give me a call before the landlord did tomorrow and if I was maybe asking her for too much. But I'm always asking her for too much. Maybe I should buy her something. 

And then something jabbed me. I felt my eyebrows shoot up for a second in pure surprise, and then I thought about it. Suitcase handle. Umbrella. Jostled elbow. I went back to sort of reading my book. And then there was the jab again, more like a poke now. And a low voice, muttering something. And then some others. And then a push. No, not a push. A hand, grabbing my ass. Pressing. 

Here's the part where I should say that I spun around and snarled "keep your fucking hands to yourself." But I didn't. My eyes stayed on my book, my feet stayed planted where they were. And I stayed silent. An accident. Still. Still a chance that this was an accident. Then there was a full grab, almost painful. and I shoved at the space behind me, still not turning around. But my wrist was grabbed painfully and pulled back and then pinned against my back. And the laughing continued. And then a voice right at my ear saying, in a language I could only roughly understand: "Be still."

 

My arm shook with the effort of trying to pull back, pull away, pull down, get control back. And it wasn't working. This was funny. Apparently. From what I heard behind me. No, not funny. Something other than that. Something different. The black-haired one who was holding my arm, the one with the quieter voice, was saying something to me, sort of purring something at me, but I couldn't understand. I wasn't that good at picking out consonants yet, not when the voice was so quiet. 

I didn't realize how still I'd gone with the effort of trying to hear until the car jerked to a stop. My stop. I moved forward. Surely now they would let me go. I would tighten my grip on my bag handle and shuffle forward with the rest of the crowd to the car doors and they would let me go and maybe before I passed through the sliding doors I'd be able to steal a quick look and see who "they" were. This is not what happened. The one with my wrist in his grip stood up as I pulled forward. I assumed his friend followed him. He half pushed me as I walked forward. The press of the crowd was too great, the sheer density of people too intense for anyone to really notice, for him to look like anything other than one stranger strolling in an orderly manner behind another stranger to get out at his stop. And now here's where I tell you a secret. I'm going to tell you a thing that I'm not supposed to tell you. Because if you've been paying attention, you'll notice that I could have said something, I could have spoken. Even if I couldn't have articulated exactly what was happening, I could have screamed and shouted. But I didn't want to. A horrible part of me was too curious. Stupidly so, yes. But that's the point. 

 

We walked down along the platform, rode up the escalator to the turnstiles (no stairs for us. There would be too much room for me to break free and run away I guess). The turnstiles were tricky, but the second boy, with dyed-brown hair, fished around in my pocket, grabbed my pass and handed it to me after he'd passed through. I used my one free hand to scan it and walked through quickly, but he was waiting to grab me. This was my first time finally seeing him face to face. He was taller than me. Much taller. He was thin but his grip on my arm and wrist were like stone. He looked at me and smiled sweetly, smugly. Like he’d just eaten something delicious and stolen. He said something that I did understand: “Sweet.” His friend’s face I only got a brief glimpse of as he passed through the gates, before he grabbed my arm and jerked me around to face forward again. I was getting tired of this. 

 

It was raining. I realized that I’d left my umbrella on the floor of the train. We passed through the crowded streets before stopping short at a corner, where the darker-haired one hailed a cab. They shoved me into the car between them. 

In the backseat we sat there and the black-haired one who had first grabbed me pushed himself up against me. I was pressed tight. He shoved his hand up my shirt. He struggled in the dark to find my bra hook, but eventually I heard it snap. His mouth was pressed against my neck and I could feel his teeth as it stretched into a smile, his hands stroking me and pinching at my nipple. I jerked away, but I was stopped short by his friend, whose hands closed like vices around my wrists. With the full force of his arms he pushed me back and held me still. He hissed softly: “You won’t do that again.” His friend descended on my neck again, biting, licking along my collarbone. I gritted my teeth, and for the first time, I spoke: “W-wait--” 

“Okay, you’re here!” I heard it come from somewhere that felt like miles away. “Twelve even.”

The black-haired one unbuckled us while the brown-haired one answered in a voice that couldn’t possibly belong to him, to the person who had captured me like this. It was boyish and bright. 

“Thank you sir!” he chirped. He handed a bill to the driver and hustled me out onto the sidewalk, still smiling at the husky, cheery man in the small dark blue car. The driver waved at us and teared off. 

We stood there, in the front walkway of a normal house in a sleepy, tree-lined suburb. I noticed that it had stopped raining. I was hyper-conscious now of the hairs on the back of my neck standing up and the large, hot hand still locked around my forearm. I stared at the ground, but I could feel them both looking into my face, waiting for something. The brown-haired one asked quietly, “Are you scared?”

I didn’t move for a long time. And then I broke away and tried to run. My ankles jolted with the sudden and rapid impact of my feet pounding along the street. I didn’t get very far before I was yanked backward and an arm locked around my ribcage. The black-haired one had caught me. He stood still for a moment, trying to catch his breath. I had run fast. His mouth was suddenly at my ear again: “Ha. That was-- you’re quicker than I expected. Fast-moving aren’t you? You’re not very good at holding still. I’ll have to teach.”

He said something close to that. I’m not a perfect translator. He spoke quietly as his friend strode up to join us, stopping casually like he had just caught up with some friends at the door of a restaurant. He seemed to be lightly pleased by how this kidnapping was going. To him I was a friend who had gotten lost in the neighborhood, looking for the street number. 

“The house is just up this way,” he said kindly, tilting his head in the direction we had just come from, that I had run away from. I stared at him. The one with black hair poked me in the shoulder. We walked forward. We climbed up the steps from the low sidewalk. The small house sat quiet and enclosed on a densely green, leafy slope that rose high up, away from the street. The water dripping off of the leaves fed the chorus of rain around us. The stone steps were short and a little slippery. I climbed slowly, gripping the side rail, a hand against my upper back nudging me forward. The black-haired one was walking ahead of me and I could see now that he had a bruise on the back of his neck. I spoke up. “They’ll be waiting for me. I was supposed to be there 40 minutes ago.” I realized should have heard ringing by now. “What did you do with my phone?” 

The tall brown-haired one laughed behind me. He replied, simply: “They’re just gonna have to wait.” 

We got through the door. I heard the click of the door being locked and then two hands took my shoulders and pushed down. Resisting fiercely, I strained to stay upright. The black haired one, who was trying to push me down, shifted tactics. He pinched at my shoulder. I flexed my feet and pushed upward, in opposition. His attitude changed. The voice that was suddenly in my ear, so close, was soft, almost perplexed by my behavior. “You’re being difficult, now, you know that? Down, go on.” The knot in my stomach tightened. “I don’t want to.” The black-haired one stared at me. This was the first time we were looking at each other face to face, I realized. He was wearing contacts, light blue. I hated them. On some weird impulse, for some reason, I said so. He stopped short. I felt his grip on my shoulder where he was still holding me tighten. I had left my sense of self-preservation on the train next to my umbrella. He looked directly into my eyes for several moments before finally speaking. I didn’t realize I had been been holding my breath. When he finally broke the silence, I let it out faster than I’d intended.

“Stay here. Wait here with Han.” he stalked off, up some shadowy, carpeted stairs on the other side of the living room, and then out of sight. I looked around then. The room was large and quiet; the thick sand-colored carpet swallowed any noise and gave a slight bounce to every footstep. The sound of rain drumming against the glass doors was soothing, even mesmerizing. I lost myself for a moment. Then from somewhere a sharp smell, minty, suddenly cut through the air. I heard the smack of chewing gum. 

The brown-haired one. Han. Han had walked away from us while the black-haired one and I were struggling. I turned to see him reclining on a large chair near the dim kitchen area, eyes half-lidded, watching me lazily while he chewed. Seeing me turn to look at him, he lifted his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly. With a small, friendly smile on his face, he remarked, “We just want you to relax, you know. There isn’t much other furniture.” He pointed to a cushion lying on the ground a few feet in front of him. “You don’t have to actually kneel if you don’t want to...” But you should. I heard what he was telling me.

I broke from my withdrawn stance and stepped forward so quickly that I saw him twitch in surprise. Before he could move I was in his face, feet planted deep in the thick carpet and finger pointing at him. Without thinking, he put up a hand, faintly warding me off. “Han? Han, listen, this is all very cute, but I think you’re misunderstanding here. No one is going to be ordering me around. I’m not going to-- ” I saw the muscles in his neck and jaw shift as he suddenly swallowed and clenched his teeth. The friendly look on his face stiffened. The boyish voice and expression was gone. I had tripped a wire somewhere. His voice thundered through the house:

“KNEEL.”

I froze and blinked. Suddenly he was on me. I had forgotten in that short time just how strong he was, the reedy bastard. His arms locked around me, too tight, and my feet swept out from under me as he manhandled me up off of and then back onto the ground, back first. I heaved my whole weight upward, arms and legs straining, to try and overturn him and get back up, but he only pushed me back even harder. I was gasping down massive gulps of air, trying to snatch back my sense of up and down. He was definitely NOT smiling now. NOT laughing. I wanted to yell at my body to stop shaking. Time to try and reason. “Listen--”

 

He cut me off with “Be still.” After a long pause: What’s your name?”  
“Why?”  
His whole body blanketed mine now. He was heavy. Something in the pit of my stomach tightened. I didn’t hate the sensation.  
“You’ve figured this out by now. You know what’s going to happen.” He shifted a little, pushing himself between my legs. “And I think you want it.” 

I turned away from him and knew that if I was lighter my face would be turning red, with anger or with a feeling of being found out I can’t say for sure. He leaned down farther and pushed my wrists away from me. “What’s your name again?”

“I didn’t tell you my name. And I won’t.” I snorted and looked away. 

His lips were suddenly on my neck, and I yelped. His voice was muffled but I felt its vibrations ringing into the skin of my shoulder. His tongue was warm on my collar bone. “Fair enough. I’m not going to need your name soon. But you will probably need ours.” He laughed. “You already know mine now. My friend’s is Aio. And you know, Aio likes you a lot.” A kiss on my neck. “You caught his attention right away.” Another. “I’m so happy that he spotted you. And I’m even more happy that he’s so willing to share. He really wants us to do this together.” I was twisting away awkwardly, to look at him. What was he saying? The rain came down heavily outside, pouring down in streams along the windows and casting speckled shadows around the room. In the dim light from the one of the glass doors, he loomed over me with a distant smile, looking off into the distance at something remote but pleasing. There was a low roll of thunder somewhere as I opened my mouth to reply.

Han looked up. Aio was coming down the stairs, shaking his still wet hair. He’d showered, and I noticed he’d removed his contacts. His eyes were dark and partly covered by his even darker hair, which was dripping a little into his eyes and onto the collar of his faded red t-shirt. Among the muted colors of the room, it stood out like a shock of blood. He cocked his head at Han and silently strode over. He crouched down, locking his eyes with mine. “Better?” He said. 

I muttered quietly “Yes.” I was still pinned underneath the brown-haired one, underneath Han, and my body was overheating now. I shifted and whined. 

Aio scolded Han. “You’re hurting her.” 

Han looked down at me, head tilted and apologetic. “Oh no! Is that true, baby? Am I hurting you?” He pushed himself, his cock, even harder between my legs, pressing down firmly. “I’m so sorry.” I wasn’t ashamed by this point. A jolt of pleasure shot through me, and I let my head fall back as the breath rushed out of me in a winded moan. 

The black hai-- Aio chuckled and leaned into whisper in Han’s ear. They were both close enough that I could hear it: “Good boy. The door’s locked?”

“Yes.”  
“You’re sure, Han?” As Aio said this he slipped a hand around Han’s neck possessively, the other hand tilting Han’s chin upward to face him. “Did you double check like I told you to?”  
Han glanced up at Aio, and from where I was I could feel him shiver as he said “Yes Aio,” in a quiet voice. The arrogant boy of a second ago was gone. Aio’s thumb traced along Han’s lip for a moment. Han’s eyes fluttered almost closed, not quite. “Good boy,” Aio said again. And then he leaned down and kissed Han. From where I lay underneath Han, still pinned to the floor, I could see him trembling as Aio slid his tongue into Han’s mouth lazily, masterfully, taking his time. Han whimpered and breathed heavily into Aio’s mouth. 

I had become absorbed, so it was a shock when Aio released Han, stroking his hair lovingly, and Han’s attention -- and mouth -- suddenly turned to me. I found myself enveloped, and his lips were softer than I expected. I wanted to ask “ha! What do you exfoliate with?” But I didn’t know the word for exfoliate. He grazed his lips against mine, lightly, barely there. And then he bit my bottom lip. I jumped...And then I reciprocated. It quickly became a battle between the two of us. A contest for dominance. He won for the moment, pinning me down as he ran his tongue along mine. He was heavy and it was good. 

I opened my legs slightly, just, wanting more pressure there. Han pulled back and looked at me, smirking. “But no name for me?” For a split second, the look he had was raw, slightly small and exposed. He looked younger than he knew. I’d worn a dark navy lipstick today, I suddenly remembered. It was smeared around his mouth, like he’d been eating blackberries. I shook my head crankily, reaching up to wipe away some of the makeup. I liked the way it looked on his mouth though. I craned my head back a little from where I was to stare up at Aio, who was kneeling next to me.

 

Saying nothing, I opened my mouth. Han had let go of my wrists now, resting his elbows on the ground to support himself as he looked down at me, smirking. I gripped him by the upper arms as I continued to stare at Aio. He looked at me and tilted his head a bit, pausing. After a moment, I started to feel silly. I couldn’t tell if he was genuinely confused about what I was indicating or just toying with me. Annoyed and more than a little self-conscious, I punched him in the thigh. Then he leaned over and kissed me. I was underneath him and stretching my neck forward awkwardly, but this time I was the leader, biting at him as he submitted, breathing quickly. He was strong though, I could tell, the thick cords of muscle at his neck and shoulders shifting with each intake of air. But all of it was in my power. I decided to be pushy, ignoring the slight pain in my neck to stretch farther forward and bite deeper. He gave a low moan and I smiled through my teeth. Good. I pulled away, and he grunted in frustration.

I looked him up and down, considering. It was a long moment while I studied him. He shifted where he was kneeling, waiting. I looked at him once more and then directly into his eyes so he would understand. Finally I opened my mouth and calmly said: “Mine.” 

He gave a sharp intake of air and looked at me like I’d just given him a gift. He really was beautiful, just like in the photo I’d been given. He suddenly surged forward and kissed me. I ignored how much I wanted to kiss him back, to hold his face there and sit in the warmth of that kiss. Instead I let go of one of Han’s arms to push him away. 

 

"We've only got an hour or so. If you want this to happen again, you don't have much time to impress me."

Aio chuckled, and Han smiled at me, humming quietly as he went back to mouthing at my neck. His hand slid down from its resting place on my stomach and slipped past my thick light blue sweater and into my pants. His large fingers slid along my clit and rested on the sensitive nub, slowly massaging in circles. I moaned softly and pushed my body upward, craving more contact, more friction, wanting to be submerged in him and with him. Han swallowed my moans as he enveloped my mouth in a kiss. The way he claimed my mouth was deep and aggressive and hungry. I was dripping wet now, and I could hear the slick sounds of his fingers moving in and out of me, three at a time now. I pressed myself back even farther, spread my legs even wider, anything to give him more access, to let him take more. He pushed his fingers deeper into my me, picking up speed and force. My moans carried through the small house. Suddenly, I expected one of them to hush me, to place their hand over my mouth and remind me, gently or not so gently, that I had to be quiet. Others had. But neither of them did. In fact, noticing that I’d suddenly become quieter, Han looked into my face with a look of concern. “Is something wrong?” he asked. “Is this okay? Should I do something different?” I smiled and shook my head. I took his hand in mine, guiding it back into me. “N-no. It’s good. It’s good. More...harder. Oh god....!” He’d suddenly shoved his fingers into me with a force that make my legs shake. I shrieked and then stopped myself. He looked at me. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice raw and a little husky. “No one can hear us here.” 

I laughed breathlessly, “That’s a little terrifying.” 

He looked at me lightly but thoughtfully and let out a small laugh. “Don’t worry. I think maybe we would have more reason to be scared of you.” He wasn’t wrong. He pulled his fingers back up to my clit, pressing and stroking the tender spot with his wet fingers. I shook as I came, calling out. 

He took his hand out of my panties to wrap his arms around me and press us together. I could feel him through his jeans now, hard and heavy. My heart felt like it was slamming against the wall of my ribcage. He giggled like a kid and put his hand against my chest. "Haha, your heart is beating so fast." Embarrassed, I muttered "Shut up." I kissed him softly, and then gave him a small soft peck at the corner of his mouth. Then I grabbed him by the hair at the nape of his neck, maybe a little harder than I should have. He grunted but let himself be pulled back, locking eyes with me. His eyes were beautiful. We were nose to nose and I felt the heat of his breath as his chest rose and fell above me. With my fingers buried in the locks of his thick, shining auburn hair, black at the roots, I saw the open and unguarded way he looked down at me, waiting. A tenderness and possessiveness suddenly welled up in me, and I felt a low growl rolling up from my throat. I licked along his neck and jaw. "Do you know what I'm going to do to you?" I asked. Whimpering, he nodded eagerly. "Please," he whispered.

“Well," I said, repeating his words from an hour ago, what felt like days ago. "You're going to have to wait." I slipped out from under him and stood up to undress. I heard him groan behind me. 

I'd forgotten that Aio had already unfastened my bra in the taxi. As soon as I slipped off my oversized sweater and stood in my thin shirt in the small room, I remembered. I shivered slightly with the lost heat from the sweater, exposed in the open air, and laughed a little at the awkward lumps in my shirt created by the hanging straps and wonky, misaligned laced cups. I turned to say something to Aio. When my eyes found the spot he had slipped off to in the dimly lit corner of the room, my voice caught in my throat. His shirt was off, tossed to the side, and his loose pants were undone. My mouth went dry when I noticed that he had shoved them down slightly so he could reach in and stroke himself. Under the rough, dark fabric of his pants, his hand moved slowly along his shaft in long drags. He was teasing himself, his breaths coming in ragged, shuddering gasps. He met my gaze with a look that was almost apologetic.

"You made us wait way too long for this. I...ahhh." He trailed off into a stifled moan. But I knew what he was saying. I knew what he and Han wanted. "Stop," I said. He froze, looking at me. And again there was that vulnerability, that tender strain of helplessness, that made me tighten a little. 

I walked over to him, and knelt, hands behind my back. An offering. I felt the wetness, thickness, between my legs and bit my lip, shifting my thighs slightly, enjoying the slight friction. I hid nothing. I looked up at him and saw that he was staring at me like I was something mythical. I licked my lips and waited. He took me by the neck, lightly. I meditated on the feeling of his fingers wrapped around my throat, and felt satisfied. My skin was turned on like a lamp where he gripped me, stroking one side of my neck with his thumb, settling back into dominance. I liked him like this too. He spoke:

"And what if I decide not to give it to you?"

I stared into him, defiant. "You will." I switched again, for a moment, and repeated the word from earlier, the word that had snatched and broken something in him: "Mine."

For a moment after hearing that, Aio was still. Then a different expression, something new, shifted and clicked into place. A feral grin spread slowly across his face.

“Open your mouth,” he growled.

I hesitated, and was rewarded with his grip on my neck tightening savagely. 

“I won’t tell you again,” he said, his voice low, and slightly dangerous. “Be good, open wide.”

Feeling mischievous, I spread my knees instead. His eyes flashed for a moment, and I gazed up at him smugly. I bit my lip, and then slowly, opened my mouth. He said nothing for a few moments, looking down at me with a hungry look that I knew mirrored mine. “Good girl.”

 

He pulled out his cock, already swollen and dripping. His hand shifted smoothly from my neck to rest in my hair, gripping lightly, as I scooted forward and licked at the thin droplet at the tip, tasting, testing. His soft moan was my cue to go further, and opening my mouth, I took him down whole, swallowing his length until I could feel his tip at the back of my throat. I gagged a little; I wasn’t as experienced at this as I pretended to be. He gave a long, drawn-out sigh, and I sucked, slowly, pulling my mouth off and onto him in long drags. I looked up to see how I was doing. From the way his body was thrown backward across the sofa, his fist between his teeth, I guessed that I was doing a good job, but I wasn’t entirely sure of myself. This was a new person, I didn’t know this body. But I would get to know it, that was certain. What I’d said about an hour wasn’t true. We knew that. We had plenty of time. My hands locked onto his hips to hold him in place as I rocked my mouth back and forth along his cock, humming softly. I heard him moan “Yes. Oh God...” His breath quickened, matching my increasing pace. He began to thrust into my mouth, unable to stop himself. A small part of me worried I would choke, but the lewd slurping and squishing sounds we were making pulled my attention back. I could feel him getting close to his edge, his breath becoming uneven. I pulled all the way off of him, his cock releasing from my mouth with a soft pop. He moved his hand from where it was thrown across his eyes to look down at me. “No, please,” he groaned. “Please don’t stop. I...” 

“Shhh,” I said. “It’s okay, baby. Patience.” I held his cock in one hand as I rose up to lean over him. Continuing to stroke him with one hand, I pressed my lips behind his ear, along his neck, nibbling a little at his collarbone. I could see how the pleasure was eating into him now. He was shuddering and shaking. He was babbling softly as he arched into my grip, “Please, I need. Ah! Please. More. I’ll do anything...” He looked up at me. He didn’t know my real name yet. I smiled. I’d teach it to him, just like he wanted to teach me how to be still. But first I needed to ask him something. I leaned in even closer. My breath was hot on his ear. I gave it a small lick and asked, “Who do you belong to? Whose is it?” Looking up at me, fighting back tears of pleasure, Aio bit out: “Y-yours. It’s-- yours.” I smiled. “Correct.” My hand moved faster, and Aio gasped. I felt him release, warm and milky, into my hand. 

A voice spoke up, right against my ear, as a pair of arms closed tight around me, trapping me. Han hugged me tightly to him from behind, locking one of my arms behind me. 

“You’ve got it backward, sweetling. You belong to us.”

I smirked. We’d see about that. “Your turn.”


End file.
